


Fever

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Caring, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: Part of the #SixDrabbles challenge.Prompt: "caring for Jim when he's sick"
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Жар](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528826) by [genmitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu). 



> Original prompt by shugister

Oswald bites his lip leaning over Jim. The fever wasn’t breaking, and it has been high for two days already. Jim was sleeping through it mostly, fitfully, unsoundly, he kept throwing the blanket off and wrapping it over his head when his body was getting the chills. The doctor warned Oswald about this, and told him it would only be dangerous if the fever didn’t break in three days, but it hardly made seeing this any easier.

And to think that only a few days ago Jim was so chipper, he even made a joke and teased Oswald when he appeared in his office with another request for information. It was as usual, and he was as usual, handsome, lean and perfect, and Oswald kept admiring him the whole time they talked. But only a couple days later Jim came back to pick up the dossier and he looked way worse, he was pale, and he ended up fainting right at Oswald’s club, giving him quite a scare. Oswald called for a doctor immediately but he discovered no wounds or signs of poisoning, just a severe cold worsened by chronic fatigue.

So that’s why now Oswald watches Jim toss and turn in his bed, and the only thing he can do for him is change cold compresses. When he puts wetted cloth on his fevered forehead, Jim’s face softens as if by magic. The tense wrinkles smooth out, Jim calms down and seems to be breathing easier. Oswald touches his temple softly, wiping away a stray drop. It feels very intimate like this, when Jim is so vulnerable and open, and even the fact that Oswald undressed him to his underwear and put him to bed can’t quite compare.

“Oswald…” Jim mutters, making him freeze as if he was caught red-handed. “Oswald…”

“I’m here, Jim,” he replies softly, not moving, but to no avail - Jim doesn’t open his eyes, and he frowns, muttering something unintelligible.

Oswald sighs, straightening. Who’d have thought Jim would be calling for him in his fevered sleep? What does he see there, in those dreams? Oswald remains sitting on the edge of his bed, biting at his lips, anguished by his own impotence. What can he do, what can he possibly do to help? At some moment he takes Jim’s hand and holds it, stroking it from time to time. Jim is so hot, and his heat is dry, torturing the body from inside and never leaving. Oswald doesn’t believe in God nor Devil, but he prays now, for Jim to get better.

Jim opens his eyes unenthusiastically. He’s hot, his throat is parched, and he’s so worn out… He’s gotta get up somehow and get to the kitchen, drink some water… Jim tries to sit up but something is in the way. He blinks in confusion, looking closer, but it doesn’t change the fact that the King of Gotham, Oswald Cobblepot himself, is sitting on the floor next to his bed, asleep, and holding his hand. His face looks calm and so young, only a hint of wrinkles near his eyes suggests his real age, and Jim can’t help admiring him. It’s easy to understand what he’s doing here, at Jim’s place, you don’t even have to be a detective for it… The last thing Jim remembers is his visit to Oswald’s club, so he probably collapsed there, and Oswald, who always claimed to be his friend, couldn’t abandon him, of course. The warmth Jim feels in his chest at this thought has little to do with his fever.

“Oswald?” Jim rouses him softly, squeezing his palm, and Oswald wakes up. He blinks for a couple of moments, and then instantly focuses his attention on him.

“Jim? Jim, how do you feel?”

“Better,” Jim smiles at him. “Would you let me get up?”

“Ah,” Oswald flushes. “Yes, of course…”

He tries to get up - and removes his hand, what a pity! - but he’s especially awkward like this, after sleeping in an unnatural pose, and Jim feels inexplicable tenderness. He catches him just before Oswald loses his balance and keeps him from falling.

“You know, you didn’t have to sleep on the floor,” Jim smirks. “You could easily lie next to me.”

Oswald blushes to the roots of his hair and mumbles something about not wanting to make Jim uncomfortable, and Jim never wanted to kiss him more.

Oswald insists on staying for a little while longer, until the fever breaks completely, and Jim is only too glad for that. Oswald’s hands are always so warm and tender when he helps Jim to get up, when he checks his temperature, when he supports him. Jim sometimes makes fussy faces when it’s time to take his medicine only to see that stern gaze of his. Oswald crashes on the sofa in the living room on the first night, and the second, but on the third night Jim catches his hand, pulls him closer and asks him to stay. Jim kisses his cheeks, his neck, caresses everything he can reach and Oswald melts in his embrace, moaning out his name, and, unable to hold back any longer, slots their mouths together for a kiss, a very hot kiss, and only the first out of so many.

“I tried to hold back so much,” Jim smirks, shaking his head. “For your sake.”

Oswald just sniffles pitifully, accepting his medicine.

“It was worth it,” he smiles back at him, absolutely happy.

And Jim kisses his forehead.


End file.
